


The Stars Are Out Tonight

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Javert never planned to have an affair with a student.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Cosette sees him, it's nearly nine o’clock as she’s leaving the campus library. Her brand new library card is in her pocket at last. She’s been here a few weeks now, and decided it was time to get one. At least it gives her an excuse to get out of the house without Papa worrying too much about her.

He's standing there on the grass, arm full of books, gazing upward at the night sky. Cosette watches him a minute, enjoying the way he’s completely lost in the moment, staring at the stars. People pass by without really staring, so this must be a fairly usual occurrence on campus.

It gives Cosette a chance to study him. He’s in his mid-to late forties, with hair slightly graying at the temples. He’s the perfect picture of the absentminded professor type with his shabby jacket, collar shirt, no tie, faded jeans. She can’t make out the book titles from here, but he’s carrying them with easy familiarity. He’s probably a guest lecturer, but she can’t help hoping that he’s one of the professors. There’s something about his entranced expression that makes Cosette want to know more about him.

Eventually he shifts the books under his arm and starts walking across the grass towards the parking lot. Cosette’s tempted to follow him, but she guesses that stalking random men across the campus on a whim wasn’t really what Papa hoped she’d do when he suggested she get some fresh air.

She goes home instead.

* * *

Javert rattles through his introductory speech by rote. The words feel repetitive and dull on his tongue. This is the first time in fifteen years that he doesn't feel the slightest bit interested in starting his class. Last semester’s students were incredibly disappointing, all hoping for easy grades. Javert feels ancient and distant, like it's becoming impossible to relate to the younger people entering his classroom. Why does he even bother?

He thinks about retiring from time to time, but what would he do instead? The last time he took a sabbatical he wrote another book, continuing the themes he covered in his second. His editor keeps asking if he’ll consider doing a book of short stories, but Javert doesn’t consider fiction his particular strong point. He’s more comfortable with established facts.

Midway through the speech he looks up and blinks.

There's a girl sitting in the third row just watching him. A young woman really, dressed in casually expensive clothes. She looks absurdly young to be in his class with her loose blonde hair and extraordinary delicate features. What’s more, she looks like she’s actually listening to him, which makes Javert lose his train of thought immediately.

She brushes her hair back from her face, smiling slightly.

“Excuse me,” Javert murmurs. He finishes the speech quickly, trying not to stare at her. Young, but confident, he thinks. She takes a few notes throughout the class, but mostly she just watches him. Where the hell did she come from and why is she in his class?

“Please have the introduction and first chapter read by Thursday. For now, turn to page 10, and the illustration there.” It’s how he always starts, the drawing of the constellations that first led him to be interested in the stars. You’re either hooked from that moment or you’re not.

He makes himself look around the rest of the class before glancing at the girl, and finds her studying the illustration intently. Javert keeps his smile to himself.

Finally class ends. Javert dismisses them and gathers his papers together. The students file out, off to their next class and the rest of their day. The last he sees of the blonde girl is a glimpse of her hair as she goes out the door.

Javert sinks down into his chair. He doesn’t know what’s happened, but he suspects this class might be interesting than he thought it would be.

* * *

It’s him. The man she saw outside the library the other night. Cosette can’t help smiling as she realizes she’ll get to see him twice a week for the rest of the course. She’ll have to thank her father for suggesting this class. The rest of them are as uninteresting as she expected them to be, but this one has promise.

Cosette finds it oddly enjoyable to watch Javert during the class. He’s the first person to make her take interest in anything since her mother died. The obvious pleasure he takes from teaching about astronomy is a delight to her. There were a few other students who seemed as interested as she was, but for the most part the majority of the class was clearly there for the grade and nothing else.

She wants to talk to him after class, but can’t think of a good enough excuse. Not yet. It’s too early to start asking him questions about the course. She’ll give it a week or so.

Papa’s still at his class when she gets back to the house. Cosette makes a fresh pot of coffee and flips through her textbooks. She’s taking Art History, which should have been interesting, but the teacher is clearly a thwarted artist drowning in his own bitterness so she assumes the entire class will be miserable. She’d consider taking Philosophy Through the Ages, just to see Papa in his element, but the truth of the matter is she doesn’t feel like taking any classes really and is only doing this so he won’t worry about her moping around the house all day.

 _I should have stayed in France_. Cosette sighs. She’s thought that a lot ever since she got here. She came to spend time with Papa, not realizing that of course he would be busier during the semester. She was so used to having him to herself during the summer holidays it hadn’t even occurred to her.

Now she finds herself longing for their apartment in Paris. Even if every room was filled with painful memories, wouldn’t that be better than here where there were none at all? Every room in the house is nice, but it’s not home. She drifts from room to room, distracting herself as best as she can.

Of course if she had stayed in France she would never have seen Professor Javert.

Cosette pours herself a cup of coffee, and goes upstairs to her room. The university website is relatively unhelpful with her research. Basic information, such as where Professor Javert went to school, how many years he’d been teaching at the university, awards won, etc, etc. Google is slightly better, rewarding her with his birthdate and the fact that he had written three books, all to do with astronomy of course. One of the titles sounds familiar, Myths and Legends of the Stars, so she goes into Papa’s study and after browsing the shelves a bit, finds it along with Professor Javert’s other two books as well.

Cosette takes them all three back to her room, setting them on her desk. There are no author photos on either the back cover or the flap. The cover design looks dull. It’s the sort of book you would go straight past if you simply saw it sitting on a shelf, but Cosette’s drawn in from the very first page.


	2. Chapter 2

Cosette’s classes go about how she assumed they would. She spends her time in class, daydreaming and doodling on the inside of her notebook. In her mind, this is definitely acceptable in Art History at least.

Classes have been going for two weeks now. Tuesdays and Thursdays are her favorite days, obviously, with a full sixty minutes, blissfully devoted to listening to Professor Javert. So far she finds it interesting how the textbook he’s using doesn’t cover half the stuff that he wrote about in his books. Professor Javert is like an iceberg with only the tip showing. Cosette wants to dive deep beneath the waters and explore the rest of him.

When he’s not teaching, Professor Javert spends most of his time in the library. There’s a corner study alcove with a table. He spreads his books out across the surface. Hours pass with him buried in them, barely aware of people as they pass by. Cosette has the feeling a fire could break out and he wouldn't even notice.

Cosette starts doing her research there in the afternoons, watching Javert from across the library as she takes notes. She learns he has a tendency to let his glasses slip down as he reads, and when he’s really intent upon a passage, he pushes them back on his head, peering more closely at the pages. His shirts are always ironed neatly, and Cosette likes to picture him ironing them himself in the evenings, perhaps while listening to music. He wears no ring, and while that’s never an absolute signifier these days, she’s fairly certain he’s not married. There’s something about him that sets him apart from other people.

Cosette wants to know more.

 *  *  *

On Tuesdays, Javert finds he’s now glad the week has started. On Thursdays he’s sorry to see it end. The knowledge that he will see her on those days fills him with a quiet personal pleasure he can’t articulate and wouldn’t even if he had someone to tell. He tries to make himself believe that he’s just pleased she’s a good student, but deep down he knows it’s not that.

If Javert finds himself watching the door as his students arrive, well, he pretends he’s simply not. The unexpected presence of Cosette Fauchelevent in his classroom is well, unexpected. Enjoyable perhaps, but definitely unexpected.

_Cosette._

The name is as lovely as she is.

Javert allows himself to think that, even as he knows what anyone would say. He’s never going to voice the thought aloud obviously. That’s the sort of thing that gets one fired from a university.

 *  *  *

Javert reads her first paper eagerly. It doesn’t disappoint him in any regard. Well-written, interesting, and there are one or two parts that hint she’s been doing research beyond the textbook which both astounds Javert and intrigues him.

He even likes her handwriting.

It’s a bad sign.

 *  *  *

“Excellent work, Miss Fauchelevent.” Javert hands her the paper back at the end of class. “It’s…very mature for your age.” Oh god, how old is she? She’s probably even younger than he imagines. He really doesn’t want to think about that. Why did she have to ever walk into his classroom? He reaches for his notebook, placing it in his briefcase, trying to distract himself from her proximity. She smells like roses.

“Are you saying you expected more immature material from me?” Cosette’s amused. It’s not the first time people have taken her for a pretty face and nothing more. This is the first time she doesn't mind.

Javert blinks, pausing briefly before he continues collecting his papers. “I, no, I merely meant that it’s a pleasure to find you apparently have a keen interest in astronomy.” He’s talking too much. She _can’t_ be that interested. Chances are she’s just a student carefully covering all her bases, but he can’t resist. “I must admit, I was surprised you seemed familiar with the work of French astronomers, but perhaps I shouldn’t have been.” With a name like Fauchelevent, he really shouldn't have been.

Cosette smiles slightly at his statement, but then it fades. “I’ve lived in Paris most of my life. My mother is…was French." Cosette wants to explain, but the thought of talking about it is too exhausting. She gives him the short answer, just to give it over with. “She died a few months ago and I came here to stay with my father.”

“I’m sorry.” Javert means it. He'd like to say something more, but what is there to say that she’s not already heard a thousand times by now?

Cosette just nods. “Thank you, professor.”

She walks away before he can say anything more.  

Javert sighs. He has no talent for this sort of thing, and it’s not really his place anyway. He should have directed her to the counselor the student body is supposed to see for their various troubles. However, he doubts that it would be much help. Cosette Fauchelevent’s grief is the sort that will only lessen with time. Speaking about it may benefit her or not, but in the end time will help the most.

At any rate it explains her enrollment in his class. Obviously she’s just passing the time while staying with her father. Javert’s both relieved and disappointed by this realization.

 *  *  *

Cosette sits on the stone wall outside the library, kicking herself mentally. That was the perfect chance to really talk to him, and then it just went to hell. She sighs. Should have expected that really. There was always going to be an awkward moment concerning her mother Any time she has to explain, the pity appears in people’s eyes. They want to help.

At least with Professor Javert the pity hadn’t appeared. That’s something.

 Cosette ponders what to do next. Maybe she could write a note explaining more. It’d be easier to put things in writing and just leave it on his desk.

_Dear Professor Javert:_

_My mother died a few months ago. I’m coping relatively well at the moment, but talking about it doesn’t help._

_Ps. Your hair is cute. So are your glasses. I would like to take them off and, oh never mind._

_Cosette._

Or maybe –

_Dear Professor Javert:_

_I am in love with your hands._

_Please touch me with them at your earliest convenience._

_Cosette_

Or even -

_Dear Professor Javert:_

_Let’s drop the pointless unnecessary small talk and just bone on your desk already._

_Yours any time at all,_

_Cosette_

Nope, that’s a terrible idea. None of that would go well.  She brings her legs up, sitting cross-legged on the wall. She likes this spot. She likes it even more because it faces the library entrance.

 *  *  *

Javert comes out of the library and sees her sitting there on the wall underneath the apple trees that line the campus. He stands there a moment just gazing at her, and then Cosette turns her head and looks right at him.

He gets the strangest sensation that she’s waiting for him. Obviously, that’s absurd. He should continue on; he has an appointment.

But then she smiles at him across the sidewalk and Javert can’t help smiling back.


	3. Chapter 3

In the early gray hours of the morning, Javert dozes on the edge of sleep, remembering moments from the last two weeks. Moments he doesn't allow himself to dwell on when he's awake.

_Cosette smiling at him cross the campus pavement._

_The way she listens in the classroom, chin resting in her palm as she gazes at him._

_Glancing up from his work and seeing her reading in the library._

_Standing beside his desk, asking a question. So close he can smell her perfume. The way her hand glides over her textbook. She turns her face abruptly upward, looking at him. In another life, Javert would take the invitation that was offered in that moment_.

Javert wakes slowly, reluctant to leave that last remnant of recollection. He’s led a solitary life. Romantic affairs have mever been his strong suit. But that moment when she looked up at him, and he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but her lips, it had been a sweet moment indeed.

Javert sits up with a sigh, tossing back the covers. There's no point in dwelling on this. He has a nine o’clock class to think about.

 *  *  *

When Javert walks in to his office, there’s a post-it note sticking to his computer. _Dinner with Professor Valjean tonight– seven o’clock. Don’t be late. Again._

It brings a smile to his face. The message is written in his assistant’s handwriting, but the phrasing is all Valjean’s. Javert makes a mental note to be punctual this time. He's lost track of the amount of times he’s gotten wrapped up in work and forgotten he was due for dinner.

It will be good to see Valjean. It’s been weeks since their schedules have been even vaguely compatible. Valjean, in particular, has been busy, what with his usual summer leave in France, and an extra class added to his curriculum just before the semester started.

Javert makes another note to look around his house and find the book of philosophy Valjean loaned him months ago. It’s high time he returned it.

*  *  *

It isn’t until Javert’s walking into Valjean’s house that he realizes who she is. Valjean greets him warmly, ushering him into the house.

“My dear friend, it’s been far too long. Come in, come in.”

“I know, I know, I apologize.”

“Nonsense, my schedule,” Valjean shakes his head. The lines at the corners of his eyes have deepened over the last few months. He looks exhausted and Javert finds himself concerned.

He starts to speak, but there are footsteps on the stairs. Javert glances up. There’s a moment of bewilderment, and then he knows the girl he’s been thinking of for the last few weeks is none other than Valjean’s daughter.

“Come into my study.” Valjean turns, and sees Cosette at the bottom of the stairs. “Ah, Cosette, you know Professor Javert of course.”

"Of course," She comes forward. "He's teaching the only one of my classes I'm finding remotely interesting."

"Cosette!" Valjean chides her, but Javert can't suppress the warmth at her sentiment.

“I have a book I want you to see.” Valjean waves his hand at the study. “Go in and wait for me, Cosette, keep him entertained for a second.” He heads up the stairs.

Javert stands there awkwardly. "You truly find it interesting then?" He’d like to believe her.

"Fascinating," Cosette smiles. "I enjoyed your books too."

At that Javert simple gapes at her. "You read my books? Where did you even,"

"Papa's study, of course." She leads the way into the study, and gestures him to a seat. She doesn’t mention that she’s already ordered her own copies online. There are some things you don’t have t to tell your professor.

"Of course," Javert composes himself as he sits across from her. "They're not really required reading for the course. You didn’t have to read them."

"Oh, I know. I wanted to." Her eyes regard him carefully, and Javert's reminded of the way she looks in class, like she's studying him. As though she were a cat, surveying her prey.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "I hope they weren't too dull."

"Do you say that because you truly think someone other than yourself would find them dull, or because you imagine I only read things with pretty pictures?"

He’s on to her form of teasing by now. "I would imagine you spend your time reading whatever you like."

She grins.

"Cosette stop provoking your professor." Valjean calls from the kitchen. "Come and help me find the brandy glasses, if you please."

"But it's so much fun," Cosette murmurs. Her hand brushes Javert's knee as she gets up. With anyone else he would assume it was an accident and think no more of it, but from what he's already learned about Cosette, there are no accidents.

 *  *  *

Dinner is agonizing and delightful. Cosette and Valjean prepared the meal together. They take turns, interrupting each other as need be, to tell Javert about this and that aspect of it, smiling at each other as they do. He’s barely aware of what he’s putting in his mouth, too focused on how perfectly they’re in accord. _Valjean is lucky_ , he thinks wistfully.

After dinner Cosette leaves them alone in the study with their brandy. Javert’s eyes only follow her for a second before he turns his attention back where it belongs.

“So,” Valjean sits back in his armchair with a sigh of contentment “How do you like your new classes?”

Usually they do this at the beginning of the semester, talking over their classes, discussing students and so forth. It’s a sign of how busy they've both been that it’s taken this long.

Javert shrugs. “It’s early days, I suppose but they’re a fairly unpromising bunch,” he pauses, seeing Valjean’s smile. “Except of course, for your daughter.”

“Ah yes,” Valjean smiles. His amusement is evident and Javert just shakes his head.

“You didn’t tell me she coming to live with you.” If Valjean had only told him, it would have spared him so many embarrassing thoughts.

Valjean sighs, his amusement gone as quickly as it had appeared. “It was rather sudden. Her mother died in the spring.”

“I’m sorry,” Valjean had told him of his passionate affair in his youth that had led to a daughter that he saw every summer. Somehow Javert hadn’t thought to connect that with the young Frenchwoman who appeared in his classroom.

“I went to Paris for the funeral and stayed for several weeks, trying to decide if it was best for Cosette to stay there or return with me. She preferred to stay in Paris, though naturally I wanted her to come home with me. I didn’t want to push her though, not so soon after…” Valjean reaches for his brandy. He takes a sip and continues, “So she stayed at first, but then, quite abruptly in the middle of summer, she flew over and just appeared on my doorstep. Told me she wanted to be with me, and I said,”

“Of course, but you mustn’t neglect your studies.”  Javert quotes automatically.

Valjean sighs. “You know me too well.”

Javert merely smiles at him. “So the classes she’s taking...”

“Something to keep her busy for the moment. She’s an artist, she gets it from her mother.”

“You chose them for her, naturally.” He can’t explain his disappointment, but of course an intelligent young woman like her wouldn’t have entered his classroom willingly. Javert is as old and dusty as the books he prefers.

Valjean nods. He sets his brandy aside and leans forward, clasping his hands. “I know she’s grieving, but in time her grief will fade, and I don’t want her to miss out on life in the meantime.” He glances upward at Javert. “Am I doing the right thing?”

“Are you sure you should be asking me?” Javert inquires. “I’ve no knowledge of what it’s like to have a daughter.” Valjean merely grins, and Javert’s encouraged to continue. “You’re doing the best that you can. You could hardly do otherwise.”

“I suppose.” Valjean sits back in his chair. His forehead is still creased with worry. It’s time for a distraction.

“Now what was that book you were going to show me.”

*  *  *

Cosette loads the dishwasher, humming to herself as she does. Her father would chide her for it; they have a housekeeper who comes in several times a week, but she doesn’t mind. It only takes a few minutes, and besides, the kitchen is close enough to the study that she can hear the lull of their voices as they converse.

Every so often, in the midst of the murmur of conversation, there’s the rare warmth of Javert’s laughter. Whenever she hears it, Cosette experiences a curious sensation in her chest. She imagines how his mouth looks when he laughs and she wants to see it, wants to make him laugh and smile.

During those moments she finds herself unbearably jealous of her father for getting to see Javert like that.

 *  *  *

It’s a little after ten when Javert prepares to leave. They exit the study and Cosette looks up from where she’s been reading on the sofa.

“Cosette,” Valjean looks at her in surprise. “You’re still awake?”

It’s all she can do not to roll her eyes. “Yes, Papa.”

“Professor Javert is leaving now.” Valjean tells her.

Cosette rises and comes over to the door to say goodnight.

“Thank you again,” Javert nods at her briefly, “both of you, for dinner.” Then he’s gone, walking down the sidewalk, away from the house.

Cosette stands in the doorway, watching him. “How long have you known him?”

“Oh, many years now. We both came to the university around the same time. We used to joke it that it was like being in prison together, only Javert chose it and I, I was transferred unwillingly from (another) university.” Valjean smiles and goes back to his study.

Cosette watches until Javert’s out of sight. Only then does she close the door.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The morning after the dinner Javert doesn’t allow himself to lie there in bed, lingering over the memories of the night before. He gets up and starts the shower going, stripping off his t-shirt and boxers.

The water is cool upon his skin and he steps back a moment, letting it heat up.

She’s Valjean’s daughter.

There’s a disconcerting mix of escalated interest and increasing disappointment, both connected to the realization of her identity. Of all the luck in the world, she’s Valjean’s daughter.

There’s nothing to decide because there’s nothing to do. Cosette’s a student and the daughter of his friend. That’s all. Javert sets the matter aside. There’s nothing more to consider. Nothing at all.

He should have seen it before. Cosette possesses the intelligence and quiet sense of amusement that he’s used to seeing in her father. Her beauty she must get from her from her mother. Yet so much of her remains a mystery.  Javert tries to remember the information Valjean’s told him over the years.

Every summer he would fly to Paris, full of anticipation for the visit. And every time, he'd return in time for the new semester slightly saddened.

“Why don’t you have her here?” Javert had asked once, several years ago. Longer than he cares to remember now.

“I would like her to live with me at least part of the time, but her mother prefers her to be in France with her. I didn’t want to force the matter. Not to mention I haven’t the slightest idea what to do with a child by myself.”

“You’d figure it out.”

Javert steps under the shower spray. What else, what else… Valjean had never been one to gush over his personal life. Each comment had been little more than a casual aside, not because his daughter wasn’t important to him but because he cared too much. His personal life was simply that. Deeply personal and private.

Javert remembers there's a photograph of a little blonde girl in Valjean’s study, there, but not prominently displayed.  In the photo Cosette was reading on a park bench. She had liked to read and paint, even when she was little. Valjean had sent her books often.

_Enough dwelling on the matter_. Javert steps out of the shower, reaching for a towel, wrapping it around his torso. 

 *  *  *

He spends a quiet weekend, keeping himself busy grading papers and doing research. It's distracting fortunately, and he finds little time for thinking of anything else.

*  *  *

Monday night, Javert stays at the library until closing. His mind’s still buried in his work as he walks down the steps. The scent of rain is in the air. It's been an unusually wet summer. He muses over the matter, wondering if the autumn will continue like it.

"Hey, professor."

Javert looks up to see Cosette sitting on the stone wall under the apple trees. The light of the campus lamp posts cast shadows everywhere. He can only dimly make out the expression on Cosette’s face as he walks towards her.

"Good evening, Cosette." It appears on his tongue before he can draw it back. 

"It is, isn't it?" Cosette agrees, tilting her head back to survey the sky. For once Javert's not looking at the sky. The curve of her neck is so delicately breathtaking, he simply stands there, lost in wonder until Cosette looks back at him and smiles.

Javert collects himself hurriedly. "It's late. Shouldn't you be heading home?"

"Out of curiosity, how old do you think I am?" She doesn't sound insulted, just amused.

"Young enough to have a father who's no doubt worried about you," Javert says firmly. There, now she will think of Valjean and be on her way.

"Papa has a lecture. He won't be heading home for hours," she stands. "But if you're so concerned, you could always walk me home."

How can Javert refuse?

 *  *  *

They walk along in silence. It’s only a few blocks to Valjean’s house. Javert contemplates different topics, but none seem suitable. Cosette appears comfortable enough just walking beside him, but it can’t be very interesting for her.

“You must miss Paris.” He says tentatively.

“Yes.” Cosette says. “Very much.”

There’s a wistfulness in her voice and he curses himself for bringing it up.

Cosette merely sighs. “It’s hard being here sometimes, but it’s nice being so close to Papa for once.”

_Yes, don’t forget, Javert. Her papa, who's even older than you._

 *  *  *

Javert walks Cosette up to her door and waits till she unlocks the door. “Well, goodnight then.”

“Why don’t you come in and make sure there’s no one in the house?” She’s teasing him, but he doesn’t mind.

“I’m sure you’ll be safe.” Javert’s not entirely sure it’s a good idea if he walks through that door.

“Well, if you’re sure you won’t come in.” Cosette leaves the door open as she walks down the hall towards the kitchen.

_This is a bad idea._

Javert’s hesitation only lasts a moment and then he enters. “You shouldn’t leave the door open like that. This area, while better than most surrounding the campus is still,” he stops in the doorway of the kitchen.

Cosette’s balanced on a chair, reaching for two wineglasses standing atop the highest shelf. Javert takes in the sight of her skirt, raised slightly above her knees as she reaches upward. _Jesus,_ he’s going straight to hell.

Cosette steps down again and sets them on the counter. “It got you through the door, didn’t it?”

Javert’s silenced by that. She pours two glasses of white wine and holds one out to him.

“I shouldn’t…”

Cosette presses the glass into his hand. “Your class tomorrow doesn’t start until 2. You have plenty of time to have one glass, go home and get plenty of sleep before then.”

“How do you know my next class isn’t until 2?” Javert takes a sip of wine to steady himself.

“I read schedules.”

“Why?”

Cosette sips from her glass. “I’m curious.”

“About what?” Javert looks at her with puzzled eyes.

“You.” Cosette leans back against the kitchen counter “Your class is really good, you know.” Carefully changing the subject before he can grow too uncomfortable.

“It’s a perfectly adequate filler to pad out an academic resume.” Javert says wryly.

“Whatever.” Cosette waves her hand. “It’s better than that and you know it.”

“I’m glad you think so.” It’s the truth. He’s glad of that, in spite of everything.

There’s a moment of silence and he takes another sip. Cosette hides a smile behind her wineglass, pleased.

“You’re not even old enough to buy alcohol.” Javert can’t help pointing out. It’s a hunch, but he’s been working it out, going back over his memories. Twenty, he thinks. Not as young as he feared, but not in her teens.

“Almost.”

“But not yet.”

“So?” Cosette brings the wineglass up to her lips. “I forget it’s more of an issue over here. “

Javert imagines her wandering the streets of Paris, studying with friends, attending parties. A talented, creative young woman, with her whole life ahead of her. What the hell is he doing here? Why did she ask him in?

“I should go.” He sets his wine down on the counter.

Cosette nods, placing hers down as well.

Javert opens his mouth to say something, and then he can’t think of anything because her hand is atop his. Slender, delicate fingers over his. Javert can’t breathe. Cosette’s face is turned up towards his, gazing at him with those wide, entrancing eyes. Her lips are slightly parted; the urge to kiss her is overwhelming. The way she's looking at him, suddenly Javert realizes. She _wants_ him to kiss her.

It’s that realization, more than anything else, which makes him pull away at last.

“I, goodnight.” 

Cosette looks startled. “Professor.”

He shakes his head. “I have to go.”

Javert berates himself all the way home. How could he have been so stupid? For all her maturity, she’s just a child, with a silly idea of a flirtation. He’s an adult; he should know better.

For the first time in his life, Javert wishes things were different, that he was younger and could have done something different in that moment. But he can’t turn back the past, he can only face the future and there's no place for Cosette in his life.

*  *  *

The next morning Javert sees her in class. Cosette takes her seat and looks up, smiling at him hesitantly. Worried, perhaps that he’s angry over last night.

How can he explain that he’s not angry, merely petrified of what’s happening?  


	5. Chapter 5

How do you tell a man you almost kissed his daughter? That you desire to kiss her even now? That it was your first thought when you woke in the morning, and probably will be your last when you go to sleep at night. Javert doesn’t know, but this is how it is.

Javert dreams of kissing her properly. Cosette’s mouth smiling up at him. The way her eyes caught the light. In his dreams he doesn’t hesitate, and Cosette melts into his arms at the first touch.  

The dream fades when he wakes.  Javert’s thankful for this.

*  *  *

It rains heavily that morning, continuing on into the afternoon. Javert manages not to look at Cosette through the entire class period. He can’t think of a single thing that would be appropriate to say to her. If he dares to look at her, the dream will return.

He ends the class early and leaves before any of his students can speak to him, walking quickly through the rain to the library. There at least he can breathe in peace.

*  *  *

Javert’s working busily when there’s a footstep out of the corner of his eyes. He looks up and sees her. Cosette’s leaning against the bookshelf, watching him.

“Cosette,” Javert stands.

“I wanted to see you.”  Rain drops fall from her hair, landing on the library floor.

The library’s practically deserted on this rainy day. No one else is in sight, but it’s still not the wisest thing to even be speaking like this.

Javert pushes his glasses back up on his nose.  “I,” he can’t think of anything to say.

Cosette moves to stand closer to the window. The rain thunders down. Cosette’s shivering as she clutches her arms, rubbing at them. Her clothes are soaked straight through. The points of her nipples pressing through the wet material of her blouse. Javert’s torn between wrapping his coat around her, and running his thumbs over those curves. How would it feel to press his mouth to her breasts?

“Here. You’re shivering.” He reaches for his jacket, starting to take it off, then, her hand tangles in his shirt., His hands rest on her shoulders and Cosette gazes up at him, raindrops on her skin, her heart beating restlessly in her chest. Javert can’t breathe, so stricken with the moment between them.

And then Cosette reaches up, brushing her mouth across his, no hesitation, this is what they’ve been waiting for, and Javert can deny the truth no longer.

His arms wrap around her and Cosette leans into him, putting her arms around him, covering his face with breathless kisses.

Her damp hair brushes his face. Cosette smells like the rain, like spring, something fresh and wild stepping into his heart.

Then her hand is between his legs.

“I want you.” Cosette kisses him her mouth warm, devouring. “Please.”

“This is,” He _can’t._ Can he?

Her hand slides along the seam of his pant and Javert wants to moan shamefully.

“Please,” Cosette pulls Javert up against the wall, arching against him. Their bodies, slick with rain, she draws him out, her delicate cool fingers stroking over his heated flesh.  Javert nearly comes from that alone. Cosette kisses his neck. Her mouth is tender on his skin as he shivers. She lifts her skirt, letting him rub against her bare thighs. Javert buries his face in her hair as they move silently together in the gloom of the library. There is no one else in the world but them.

He comes far too quickly between her thighs, with an embarrassed murmur. “I’m sorry, I,”

Cosette holds him there for a moment, unwilling to let him go. Then Javert draws back, tucking himself away quietly.

“It’s fine,” Cosette tells him but Javert can’t bear it. What is he supposed to do now? All the things he wants to do to her seem repulsive if he says them aloud; she’s the daughter of his oldest friend. Indeed, perhaps his only friend. How could he do what he just did? How can he want to do more?

“I’m sorry.” Javert repeats sorrowfully, snatching up his papers and striding out of the library.

Cosette leans back against the wall. Her thighs are slick with his come. She presses her hand to the front of her dress. _I want you inside me._ She wants to call after him, but Javert seemed embarrassed by what happened.

She walks home slowly as the rain slows to a drizzle.

 Once there she lies on her bed in the silence of the house, staring up at the perfectly blank ceiling. At her home in Paris there’s a pattern of glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across her bedroom ceiling that Valjean helped her put up one summer many years ago. Her fingers move as she remembers how they looked in the dark, then the feel of Javert’s cock between her thighs, and the way his mouth had been so hungry on hers. Cosette comes with a quiet sigh, listening to the sound of the rain.


	6. Chapter 6

When Javert goes into his office the next morning, there’s another post-it-note waiting for him on his desk.

_Lunch? - Valjean_

Javert stares at the words for an unnecessary length of time. No matter how many times he rereads it, it still says the same thing.

Eventually his assistant passes by the door. “Do you want me to call Professor Valjean and tell him you’re available for lunch?”

“No.” Javert crumples the note, then, “No, yes, I mean, yes.” He knows, oh god, Valjean knows and he’s going to kill him.

 *  *  *

Instead Valjean spends most of the lunch discussing one of his student’s who’s having trouble focusing on the course, and how he wishes he could help the young man more. _Of course you do_ , Javert thinks as he stabs unnecessarily hard at his salad. Valjean would help everyone if he could. It’s one of the things about his friend that Javert deeply admires, even if he sometimes thinks Valjean takes it too far. The student should figure things out for himself.

Valjean signals to the waiter for the bill. “I’m leaving for that guest lecture tomorrow. Unfortunately, I’ll be gone for a week.” He sighs. “I told Cosette to call you if she needs anything.”

Javert drops his fork. “What?”

“She won’t, of course,” Valjean reassures him, “She’s perfectly capable of looking after herself, but in spite of all the faculty dinners I've taken her to, she’s still been very solitary since she came to live with me.” Valjean signs. “I wish I didn’t have to go, but I agreed to it over a year ago.”

“I’m sure she’ll be quite all right.”

“Of course, I am foolish for worrying. But if you could look in on her at least once, I'd appreciate it. It would make me feel better. Please, Javert, put my mind at ease.”

Valjean doesn’t let him go until he’s agreed.

*  *  *

Javert waits until the second evening. All he has to do is stop by the house, check to see that Cosette is doing fine and then leave. He’ll have fulfilled his duty to Valjean and everything will be all right.

He tells himself this repeatedly while waiting for her to answer the door.

When she does, the carefully prepared speech leaves Javert’s mind like a bird taking wing. Cosette’s wearing a soft gray t-shirt and shorts, perfectly normal informal attire, but he can’t take his eyes off her.

“Professor Javert.”

He clears his throat. “Your father asked me to look in on you.”

“Of course he did.” Cosette sighs. “Well, come in then,” she lets the screen door start to close and Javert catches it before it hits him in the face.

“As you can see, there’s no burglars lurking around, nothing to put me in any danger.”

She’s angry with Valjean, Javert realizes. Surely she knows why Valjean is the way he is. “Your father only meant what’s best.”

“I know.” Cosette forces a smile. “And it’s kind, it is, of you to do it, but, I wish he would stop treating me like a child.” She pauses, licking her lips. “I wish you would too.”

“It’s hard for me not to,” Javert hesitates. “I do know you’re not a child, but you _are_ the daughter of my friend and I can’t help…” _wanting you._ He can’t say that.

“What?” Cosette asks, taking a step closer.

“I want to kiss you.” He doesn’t mean to say it, or maybe he does, but it’s too late now to take it back.

There is music playing in the distance, but all Javert  can hear is the rush of his own heartbeat drumming in his chest. She leans in the doorway, waiting.

Javert takes a step towards here before he can change his mind, and then another.

"Are you going to kiss me this time or do I have to kiss you again?"

Javert responds by reaching down to cup her ass and lift her up against the doorjamb. The drumming intensifies as Cosette kisses his neck.

Cosette wraps her legs around him. “Upstairs.”

It takes too long to climb the stairs.

Somehow they make it to the bedroom and Javert lays her down on the bed. Cosette looks up at him with frank desire in her eyes.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Javert takes a deep breath. “Unfasten my trousers.”

Cosette sits up, her fingers skim over his belt, pulling it free. She undoes his trousers , tugging them down, and then his boxers too. Javert steps out of his shoes and socks. He stands over her in just his shirt, erect and eager.

Cosette leans back on the bed. Her hands slide down to undo her shorts and tug them off until she’s just wearing her panties and shirt. Then she lays back on the bed with her hands over her head.

“Come on, professor.”

It makes him even harder. Javert kneels over her, leaning to press his lips to her slim belly. His fingers trail over her bare skin, marveling at the delicateness of her against his fingertips. She’s youth and beauty and he wants her more than he’s wanted anything in years.

Javert pulls her underwear down and drops it to one side. Cosette spreads her legs, still gazing up at him. Here, is where if he were to change his mind, he should step back and leave. Instead he sets his palm against her, feels the heat of her on his hand.

“Now.” Cosette breathes.

 It’s the work of a moment to position himself, his cock thrusts eagerly at her and he can’t wait any longer. Cosette curls her hands around his back as Javert enters her. She arches up against him with a little gasp. She’s smiling,

“Kiss me.”

Javert leans down to obey, sliding further inside her.

He’s done his best to make as few mistakes as possible in his life. If this is one, he doesn't want to know.


End file.
